


Start As You Mean To Go On

by Brenda



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chuck Lives, F/M, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This was completely absurd, but somehow, this was his life now. Giving dancing lessons to the savior of the fucking world at a party being thrown in their honor with what felt like half of Hong Kong in attendance.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start As You Mean To Go On

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jo for the beta.

This was a terrible idea. 

Oh, Chuck understood the reasoning behind it – mostly. The Jaegers and their pitifully few remaining pilots were heroes again, the saviors of the world in a very literal sense, and Chuck knew this party was only the beginning of the whirlwind of press and appearances and activities they'd all be forced to endure. And even though he'd gotten good at the whole publicity bullshit over the last five years, give or take, he still suffered the whole song and dance only barely. He could think of a million things he'd rather be doing with his time.

But orders were orders, and there wasn't much point in causing a ruckus about it. No doubt he wasn't the only one grumbling. He selfishly hoped Raleigh and Mako were just as miserable as he was, though. Misery and company and all that nonsense.

"What y'reckon, Max, tie or no tie?"

Max, comfortably sprawled on the bed, tilted his head quizzically, but didn't offer an opinion either way. Figured he'd be on his own for this one.

"Yeah, you're right, I should wear the stupid thing. Waistcoat'll get washed out otherwise, and we don't want that, do we."

Max only let out a mournful whine in reply.

Chuck frowned at his reflection as he flipped the collar of his dress shirt up and snaked his tie around his neck. It was a very colorful striped pattern, not at all Chuck's usual sort. Not that he had that many ties. Alright, he had two, but they were both plain black. But both the colorfully-striped tie and the three-piece suit – a rich dark brown with an ivory silk waistcoat and platinum cufflinks and shirt studs that had come with it – had been a gift from the very grateful Chief Executive of Hong Kong, and it was probably the most expensive thing Chuck now owned. Except maybe Max, but he was priceless, for one, and for another, Max probably owned _him_ and not the other way around.

Correction, he amended, looking at the bulldog again. Max _definitely_ owned him. He was just too polite most of the time to gloat about it.

He was still trying to remember how to tie an actual four-in-hand when the pounding came on the door. Max perked up and let out a joyful bark, which could only mean one thing. Herc was on the other side.

"It's open!"

Herc stepped into the room, days-old scruff gone from his cheeks and jaw, hair tamed into something resembling order, and wearing a charcoal grey cotton-wool blend suit that befitted his station as the new Marshall of the PPDC. Chuck wondered if his suit had also been a gift, and wondered at the cost of it. The cut and fabric alone looked like they might have cost more than he'd made last year, including his combat pay.

Herc glanced around, gaze seeming to take everything in at once before flicking back to Chuck. "Ah good, yer dressed. Means I don't have to sit on you," he remarked, as Max let out another ecstatic woof. Herc took the hint, and strode over to the bed, scratching the dog behind the ears. 

Chuck was pretty sure he was staring. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his dad in anything that wasn't a pilot suit or any combination of well-worn jeans and boots and regulation t-shirts. "Well, I'm glad Max recognized you, since I almost didn't. You look almost respectable there, old man."

Herc looked down at himself, scowled, then gave Chuck a glare that fooled neither of them. "I'll show you old."

"Yeah yeah, I'm fair quaking, truly. And if you've finished checking up on me like a mother hen, I need to get this bloody thing sorted so I don't choke to death before we even leave the Shatterdome." 

He turned back to the mirror, and attempted a Windsor knot this time, figuring it might be simpler. But his fingers were too clumsy and he made even more of a mess than before. It was, in fact, maybe even a hopeless failure. He used to have a lot more practice at this sort of thing, but it had been awhile. He was two seconds from yanking the damn thing off. Patience had never been one of his virtues. Not that he had too many of those to begin with.

"Stupid, useless –" 

"Would you just...I could..." Herc made an abortive gesture at Chuck's tie. "I mean, if y'don't mind."

After so many years living in each other's heads, Chuck knew what Herc was trying to say. And since he was getting really fucking frustrated by the entire ordeal, he finally took pity on the both of them and turned to face his dad, lifting his arms out of the way so Herc could step in and take a crack. A month ago, this would have never happened. Herc would have made a piss-poor attempt at a joke, Chuck would have gotten defensive and brittle, and like as not, there would have either been a punch or two thrown or Chuck would have kicked his dad out of his room to have a sulk and refused to come out until the next day. Or, most like, both.

But they'd been trying, in their own way, ever since they'd been given this miraculous second chance. At first, they'd made the attempt because neither of them had wanted to dishonor Pentecost's memory by continuing their (if Chuck was being honest with himself) childish feud. But, as they'd gotten to actually know each other as people, it had gotten easier. And yeah, he and his dad were far too much alike and much too damn pig-headed for an easy relationship, and they probably would never be exactly what anyone would call a picture perfect family, but perfect was fucking boring anyway. Besides, it was more important that now, at last, he and the old man understood each other. And all it had taken was the end of the world, a desperate last stand, and Chuck almost dying. 

No one ever said the Hansens weren't stubborn bastards.

"I still dunno why you're making me attend this bloody thing," he grumbled, because they may be trying, but that didn't mean Chuck wasn't still Chuck at the end of the day, and he'd never really liked being put on display like an interactive mannequin.

"I'm making you and everyone else attend this bloody thing, as you put it, because the party's being thrown by the Executive Council of Hong Kong _for_ us as a thank you for saving their city from destruction," Herc said, deftly knotting Chuck's tie in a half-Windsor in a few, quick movements. He patted Chuck's chest once, and stepped back, his gaze assessing. "And I think we're all due for a night out to blow off some steam."

"If you say so."

"Yeah, I _do_ say so. And since I'm still your commanding officer and I know you at least respect my rank, if nothing else, you're going. It'll do us some good to remind ourselves there's a reason why we saved the bloody world in the first place. Besides," Herc grinned, the sight crinkling the corners of his eyes even more, "all those dance lessons you and Mako took in the Academy should get some use in the real world."

"Oh piss off," Chuck frowned, but, for once, he said it without any real heat. He'd taken a lot of shit for those classes, but they'd been downright useful in the end. "We took 'em for added agility in piloting Jaegers, not to shuffle around a dance floor with stuffy old politicians and make small talk about the bloody weather." Chuck just hoped he could remember enough Mandarin to get by – it had been awhile since he'd had an occasion to use it. 

"Better you than me, kid."

Chuck narrowed his eyes. Two could play that game. "If I'm dancing, _Dad_ , you're definitely taking a few spins around the floor."

Herc didn't rise to the bait. He just grinned again. "Yeah, alright, I suppose that's fair. But any toes that get stepped on are on your conscience."

"Like you've ever been ungraceful a day in your life. I was in your head for five years, I think I know you well enough by now."

"And I've known you all your life, and I can tell when you're stalling, so quit bludging about and get yer damn shoes on."

Chuck half thought about calling him a busybody bastard, but it wasn't like Herc wasn't right. Much as he hated being called on it, (or, more important, he hated that he'd been so obvious about it that his dad had mentioned it), he had been stalling. He stepped to the mirror again, giving himself one last glance. Yeah, he'd do alright, in spite of everything. He'd lost a bit of bulk while he'd been laid up in recovery from Operation Pitfall, but he was slowly gaining it back, and maybe his hair was sort of hopeless and a little too long for his liking, but the suit fit like a glove and he thought he looked pretty damn good in it, if he said so himself. 

He scooped up his dress shoes and looked back at the bed, where Max was still sprawled out and watching the two of them with avid doggie interest, his stump of a tail waggling back and forth like a metronome. "It's too bad we can't take him along. He's likely to be a better conversationalist than most anyone else there."

Herc followed his gaze and let out a grunt. "Like as not, he'd ignore us for the food table if we even _could_ sneak him in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Chuck leaned down to press a kiss to Max's wrinkled forehead and patted his flank. "Lucky fella, getting to stay in and be comfy."

Max responded by licking his nose.

***

The party – held in the grand ballroom of one of the five-star hotels on the other end of the Bay – was in full swing by the time Herc and Chuck showed their invites and stepped onto the spacious foyer. A four piece orchestra was playing something light and classical on a stage at the other end of the room, and the floor-length windows had been thrown open to let in the night air. Chuck could practically taste the sharp bite of the breeze coming in from the sea. Almost a dozen chandeliers, each polished within an inch of its life, sparkled overhead. There were two bars, one on either end of the room, and if Chuck was the betting sort, he'd wager each one was stocked with high end liquor. And everyone present was dressed to the nines, all in bright colors, with even brighter laughter soaring over the music.

Chuck spotted Elvis and his lovely wife, Alison, at one of the tables that dotted either side of the dance floor, having a drink with Dr. Gottlieb and Dr. Geiszler. Gottlieb even appeared to be smiling, which counted as a minor miracle in Chuck's book. He didn't think the old codger had it in him. God knew the man barely even tolerated people even in the best of times. A few tables over, some of Striker's crew were milling about, chatting with what looked like some of the clean-up staff that had been trying to help coordinate all of the repair work from the extensive damage Gipsy and Otachi had wrought. Even weeks later, Chuck knew getting the damaged parts of the city back up and running would be a long, expensive process, and would also involve a lot of backroom politics and empty gesturing for the public, but buildings were fucking buildings, as far as he was concerned, and there were other cities who were in much worse shape. At least no civilians had died this time.

But that wasn't a thought for tonight. All of the same shitty problems and same shitty pandering to the same shitty people and the same shitty political issues would still be there in the morning, but his dad was right. It was important to take a night off and remember why the world and humanity was worth saving. Even the politicians.

"I'm headed to the bar," Herc said, after he'd surveyed the lay of the land, no doubt on the lookout for anything that seemed out of place or suspicious. You could dress a soldier up, but the eyes would give him away every time. "You want anything?"

"Maybe in a minute," Chuck told him, and made a shooing motion. "Go on with you, go socialize and all that. I promise I'll make nice and I won't insult anyone...much," because there was only so much he could take and they both knew it. "'Sides, I'll never get to dance with anyone with you all hovering about like a grumpy old man."

Herc cuffed him affectionately across the back of the head. "Disrespectful brat."

"Grizzled old buzzard."

It wasn't I love you, but it was as close as they were ever gonna get. 

***

Chuck eventually snagged a longneck from a passing waiter just so he could have something in his hand, and started making the rounds. He really could do this in his sleep – he'd been one half of the most successful Jaeger team in the world for over five years, and he had more than his fair share of parties and other political and fund-raising events and military functions under his belt. He'd learned a long time ago to have several banal anecdotes ready to trot out, and to keep every conversation under three minutes, because that was normally the point when he started to get impatient and restless, and nothing good ever happened after that.

Well, except for that one night in San Diego. But he wasn't thinking about San Diego tonight. Or any night. Or ever. That had happened a long time ago, and he'd learned his lesson.

But tonight, he was fine, he was cruising along, doing his duty, accepting thanks and handshakes and even posing for pictures when asked. He was the son of the Marshall now, for however long Herc was in the position, and Chuck may not have been the one to detonate the payload and actually close the Breach, but he was still in pretty high demand. Although he sincerely hoped that, whenever Raleigh and Mako – he'd have thought she'd at least be here by now – deigned to show up, it would take some of the spotlight off of him. And having them around would definitely make the evening go by faster. He'd known Mako more than half his life, and it turned out Raleigh Becket wasn't such a bad bloke once he'd stopped swaggering about like he owned the place (which was, frankly, Chuck's job) and once looking at him didn't bring back a whole mess of memories that Chuck would just as soon not dredge up. He and Raleigh weren't exactly friends, but they respected each other well enough, and Chuck was willing to let that be that.

On his second pass through the room, he spied Tendo and Alison again, still with Dr. Geiszler, but Dr. Gottlieb was nowhere in sight. Chuck craned his head and finally spied him across the room, leaning companionably on his cane while talking animatedly to another couple about...well, whatever it was he got animated about. Dr. Gottlieb, actually looking like he was having a good time and carrying on a conversation? Would wonders never cease.

He walked up to Tendo, but his best, dimpled smile was for Alison. "When are you finally gonna ditch this drongo and run off with me and make me the happiest man on earth?"

"If I was ten years younger, I might let you try." She returned the smile, even as she reached out to straighten his tie, the gesture automatic and maternal. "Besides, you know I'm still holding out hope for you and Mako to give it another shot."

"I think that ship's sailed, love." Had sailed a long time ago, but Chuck had no regrets, and hoped Mako didn't, either. "But you and me, we can still make a go of it."

"Could you not flirt with my wife where I can hear it?"

Chuck turned to Tendo. "Why, would you rather I flirt with her where you _can't_ hear it?"

Geiszler just smirked at everyone, then held out his hand, palm up. "Pay up, my man."

Tendo sighed, and fished a bill out of his wallet, slapping it to Geiszler's palm. "You're an asshole, by the way," he told Chuck.

"What'd I do? I mean, other than the obvious. Which you deserve, by the way, for marrying above your pay grade."

"He bet you wouldn't show," Geiszler said, with an unholy-looking grin. "I said not only would your dad drag you here, but you'd also grace us with your esteemed presence before the rest of your Jaeger brethren."

Chuck figured everyone would be expecting him to be pissed about the bet, which is why he simply flicked an amused look Tendo's way. "I'm only worth a tenner?"

"What can I say, I'm saving my pennies."

"You found another antique car to restore?" Classic cars from the mid-century were something of a passion for Tendo, and Chuck had found over the years, to his considerable surprise, that he liked spending what little free time he had with Tendo under the hood, tinkering and repairing the engines. Maybe he'd become a mechanic now that he was (mostly) out of a job. There were worse things he could do for a living.

"We're thinking of buying a house," Alison said, giving her husband a fond look. "Now that things are...settled."

Now that they all had a future, Chuck thought, and smiled again, this time for real. It was past time everyone started moving on with their lives, himself included. They'd been in a holding pattern long enough. "That's great news. Any idea where you'll be settling?"

"Not yet, but we were thinking about moving back to the U.S. Tendo still has family there."

Geiszler pushed his glasses up his nose. "You should come to New York with me, it'd be great, we could take over MIT and maybe NYU while we're at it. Imagine all the damage we could do to the stuffed shirts with our awesome theorems."

"I thought you were headed to Berlin with Dr. Gottlieb?" Tendo asked.

"Okay, after that."

"Speaking of, I thought I saw him actually engaging in an actual conversation with a living person."

Geiszler craned his head, then nodded, noisily sipping at the dredges of his drink. "Ah yeah, that'd be some friends of his wife."

"He's _married_??" Chuck asked. Someone had actually volunteered to spend the rest of their lives with him?

"Her name's Vanessa. She's a lovely woman. I have no idea what she sees in him."

Chuck opened his mouth to reply, but then he saw Geiszler's eyes go wide behind his glasses and heard a muttered "Wow", before turning to see what the fuss was about.

Mako was making her slow way down the stairs, and the pang that ricocheted off Chuck's heart was a painful shock. He was also pretty sure he wasn't the only man at the party who was trying to catch his breath. _Wow_ didn't even begin to cover it.

The dress itself was beautiful – floor-length and a rich shade of cream, with a thigh-high slit up one side that showed off a fair bit of leg, and crisscross straps along the shoulders. Her hair was swept off her face in a half-twist, with her bangs, still dyed bright blue, falling artlessly across high cheekbones. Chuck didn't know much about women's makeup, but she'd done something to draw attention to her eyes and her lips, and Chuck was pretty sure, if Pentecost was still here among the living, he'd have his hands full glaring at all the frankly admiring looks she was getting. (He included himself in that category.)

But, even more than the dress or makeup or anything else, it was the way Mako _carried_ herself that drew most of Chuck's interest. The way she was walking down the stairs like she owned the room, like she was royalty gracing the mere commoners with her presence. It looked like maybe she'd finally figured out what Chuck had known since the first time he'd laid eyes on her when they'd still been kids – that she was the most singularly unique and bravest person he'd ever met.

He excused himself from the group without even looking back and waited for her as she made her way down the sweeping staircase, certain his smile was going to crack his face wide open. He felt like, well, sort of like a proud parent, which was patently stupid, since she was actually a few months older than him and had never let him forget it. It was suddenly worth all of the whinging he'd gone through getting dressed to see the way her eyes lit up in relief when she saw him, and then in approval when her gaze swept over the suit.

"You look..." He wanted to wolf whistle, but he restrained himself (because he wasn't that uncouth most of the time) "...stunning." 

"Thank you," she told him, her eyes dropping and her lips curving into a half-smile that seemed super feminine and mysterious. He'd never seen that look, and he'd honestly thought he'd seen all of them by now. Maybe he wasn't the only one who'd changed.

He held out an arm. He couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather share his first dance with. "Would you do me the honor?"

She placed her hand on his bicep, the touch light, and her teasing tone matched it. "Careful, Hansen-kun, you sound almost charming."

"Oh, I see, it's charm you've been wanting all this time. You should have just said so." 

He ushered her to the crowded floor, and gave her a respectful bow that was military-precise and deep. Her laugh was musical, amused, as he swept her in his arms and into the dance, but she easily matched him step for step. They knew each other too well and had known each other too long to not anticipate each other's every move. Hell, they'd been paired together in their dancing lessons back at the Academy. But then, they'd been paired in everything back at the Academy. Back when everyone had assumed that they'd be piloting a Jaeger together once they graduated. Back before his Uncle Scott had been drummed out and the old man had been left without a co-pilot and Chuck had been the only person who'd matched him in compatibility. Back before Chuck had become the youngest Jaeger pilot in history, and Mako had directed her talents after graduation to Jaeger restoration.

But here now, with her fitting in his arms exactly the way she did back in the day, it was easy to remember how they used to be. Easy to remember the way her laughter had felt when she'd been pressed against him, the clear, innocent taste of her skin, how she used to kiss him like he was worthy of her. Easy to remember how she'd pushed and pushed him and made him a better pilot, if not a better man. He owed so much to her, and he knew, in a million years, he'd never be able to pay her back. But, maybe he could find a good place to start.

"You know his last thoughts were hoping you'd be happy."

A small, tired smile graced her lips, but Chuck was happy to note it was genuine. "Is that a subtle way of asking how I am doing?"

"Maybe?" The light from the chandelier picked up the blue in her hair, matched the blue fire flashing from her earrings and from the necklace nestled against her throat. "We haven't exactly talked about it yet."

"There is nothing to say." Her eyes didn't leave his. "He made his choice and I...I do him the honor of respecting it."

It wasn't like any of them had much choice. "That didn't exactly answer the question."

Her eyes dropped. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. "I am...sad. But happy that his death had meaning." Then she looked back up. "How are _you_ doing?"

"Me?" He deliberately kept his hands light on her. "I'm...grateful as fuck. A little pissed, too, but I've been _told_ that's normal."

"And the guilt?" she asked. He wasn't sure if he hated or admired her perception. She could always read him better than anyone.

"Getting better." This, at least, he could give her. It wasn't much, but it was the truth, and they'd always had that between them. "Nightmares are...they're not as bad now." He knew he'd always have them, but they were a small price to pay in the end.

"I am glad." Her hand slid up. She toyed with the hairs on his nape. "It would have pained me to mourn you as well." 

For a wild second, he wondered if maybe they could start over like Alison wanted, start again, give this thing between them another spin. "You ever wonder what it would have been like? I mean, if we'd actually gotten a chance to pilot together like we thought we were going to," he clarified, when she gave him a quizzical look.

"I think..." She paused, seemed to carefully consider her words. "I think we would have made a formidable team. But I am not certain how Drift compatible we would have been in the end."

Surprising, considering all of their Kwoon matches had ended in draws. He wondered if she meant because of their history together, but that had ended by mutual agreement years ago. There'd been no muss, no drama, just two people who'd realized they'd been better off as friends.

"And why's that?"

"We are far too much alike," she told him, her tone so matter-of-fact that it took him a moment to realize she was completely serious.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, leading her into the next turn. Because he wasn't sure anyone that knew the two of them would come to the same conclusion.

"We have both been shaped too much by our fathers and we are both fueled too much by vengeance. That is why we both needed...someone to keep us grounded in the Drift."

"And _Raleigh Becket_ does that for you? Keeps you grounded?" He wasn't sure if he should be jealous that Raleigh completed her in a way he'd never been able to, or happy for her that she'd found a partner who understood her and her considerable strengths. Or if he should be amused that somehow she thought Hercules Hansen, of all people, was a grounding presence. Which was laughable in so many ways. 

But then, she'd never Drifted with his dad, so she couldn't know that, most of the time, it had been Chuck who'd been the strategist and Herc who'd gone on instinct. It was what had made them such a great team. They may have been a lousy excuse for a family back when they'd been piloting Striker, but they'd clicked when it mattered. 

"Raleigh is..." She went silent again as the music changed tempo and they moved along with it. "At his heart, he is...simple. Not complicated like you, or like me."

"I think you're the first person ever to call me complicated."

"It was not a compliment," she stated. "But Raleigh...his scars do not define him in the same way. I think he is someone we both need to heal."

His laugh was sharp and shocked. "Alright, you've had your fun, and I'm sure I deserved it for whatever it was." Needing Raleigh Becket for anything was, well, that was definitely worth at least a chuckle or two. 

"I'm very serious," she replied, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "You and Mr. Becket have much more in common that you think."

How in the world had the conversation wound up on him and Raleigh? Wasn't this supposed to be about the two of them and seeing if maybe the old magic was still there? "Yeah, I don't think so. Sure, he's a good pilot and I'm grateful to him – hell, the world is – but me and him, we aren't exactly friendly."

"Then perhaps it is time to change that." Warning bells went off in his head at her smile, and still, her next words managed to make him stumble. "He's not his brother, you know."

How could she...? But then he remembered that she'd known him a very long time, and hell, maybe he'd actually told her about that night when he'd been in a drunken haze or something. It could have happened. There wasn't a single person alive he trusted more than her. "Yeah, I'm aware."

She frowned at his clipped tone. "I know you blame him –"

"Mako, just...don't. I don't blame him, alright, it was combat and..." He sighed as they glided across the floor, their feet moving automatically with the music. She'd lived through the war, yeah, but she'd never been _in_ until the very end. She couldn't know how it felt to be a true Ranger, how accepting the awesome privilege meant accepting the terrible risks that went with it, and how it changed a person, how it changed how they looked at the world. "I knew what I was doing."

"Did you?"

He pretended not to hear her. She hadn't _been_ there. "But whatever it is you're thinking about me and Raleigh Becket –"

"You should ask him for a dance."

He stuttered to a complete stop, ignoring the press of bodies around them, and pulled back enough to look her dead in the eyes. "Are you...are you _serious_?" Maybe she'd been more gravely injured during Pitfall than anyone knew. Something had to explain her mood and the way she was acting, but he couldn't suss out what it was to save his life.

"Are you afraid?" she asked, giving him an imperious look. "The great Chuck Hansen too scared to ask someone for a simple dance?"

He narrowed his gaze. He _knew_ he was falling into her hands, but he still couldn't help himself. "I didn't say I was _afraid_ –"

"Good, then you should ask him now," she said, and nodded in the direction of the foyer. "He just walked in."

Chuck glanced over her shoulder. Raleigh was standing at the top of the steps, looking out over the dance floor, and Chuck had to grudgingly admit, the bastard had managed to clean up rather well. Raleigh's slacks were slate grey, his jacket a navy blue, and the tie at his throat was a blue-checked pattern that matched his pocket square. He'd shaved and slicked his hair back and he was honest-to-Christ smiling. Every inch of him looked effortlessly sophisticated and relaxed, and the effect was...unexpected.

As was the lurch inside him that had nothing to do with his memories of Yancy Becket, or the low simmering annoyance he normally felt where Raleigh was concerned.

A gentle finger pushed at his chin, turning his head back Mako's way. He blinked her into focus, expecting to see that little smirk she always got when she was right about something, but instead, her gaze was gentle. Kind. "Ask him for a dance, Hansen-kun," she said softly. "His answer might surprise you."

"How do you –" He stopped himself before he finished the question. Raleigh and Mako had drifted together. Which told him everything he needed to know while telling him nothing at all.

"And I believe I will ask your father for a dance."

Chuck blinked, gobsmacked for the second time in as many minutes. "Do I, uh...are you...you're not, are you?" No, there was no way. He'd've known. No one, not even his dad, was that good at hiding things in the Drift.

She just patted his cheek, the touch whisper-light, then raised herself to her toes to brush an even lighter kiss across his lips. He barely had a moment to register it before she was pulling away.

"It's time to give yourself permission to be happy," she told him.

Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared into the crowd. The lingering scent of her perfume tickled his senses, and the entire conversation left him reeling. Permission to be happy? And she thought _Raleigh_ , of all people...

There must be something in the bloody water tonight, because no one seemed to be making any sort of sense. 

But a dare was a dare and a promise was a promise (even though no terms had been disclosed and he and Mako had never actually _agreed_ to anything), so he didn't turn on his heel and march right back out the door, and he didn't head to the nearest group of people for conversation and distraction. He saw Raleigh making his way towards the bar, and if he was gonna man up and do this thing, it needed to be now, before he could change his mind.

He really hoped no one was paying them any attention, because he had a feeling Raleigh was going to knock him on his ass _again_. And what was worse, it'd be the second time he'd deserve it. 

Raleigh was in the middle of ordering a drink. He gave Chuck a nod of welcome when Chuck stopped beside him. "Hey man, how's it going?"

"Haven't felt like punching anyone yet, but the night is young," Chuck replied, matching Raleigh's easy tone. 

"That it is." He accepted his drink with a thanks to the bartender. "It's a nice party. Good crowd."

"Yeah, seems to be going off. Although I was beginning to think you weren't gonna show."

Raleigh chuckled, the sound startlingly intimate in the small space between them. "If I'd known you were looking for me, maybe I might've gotten here sooner." 

"That's not what I –" He bit off the rest of the retort. Mako's words rung in his ears – _his answer might surprise you_. He could tamp down on the temper long enough to see if she was right.

The chuckle turned into an outright laugh. "I know it wasn't what you meant, but winding you up is one of my life's little joys."

Chuck made a sour face. "You need a better life, mate, if that's your only source of amusement."

"So Mako keeps telling me." Raleigh glanced around. "Speaking of, you haven't seen her, have you?"

If he didn't ask now, he knew he'd miss his chance. But the question froze in his throat. His feet felt rooted. Eleven kaiju kills, pretty much his entire life dedicated to the art of thinking light on his feet, of making quick life or death decisions, of being responsible for the well-being of a bloody _planet_ , and he couldn't even – 

"Would you like to dance?" he blurted out, before he could talk himself out of it.

Raleigh paused, the drink halfway to his mouth. "What, with you?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly asking for a friend." Not that he had many friends, but that was neither here nor there, and Raleigh didn't know that now, did he. 

"Are you...wait, really?" Raleigh set the drink, untouched, back on the counter with a small thump. A few drops spilled onto his hand, but he didn't seem to notice. He turned, studied Chuck out of very confused eyes. "You really want to dance? With me?"

Fuck it, this was getting stupid. At least he could tell Mako he'd tried. He just hoped no one else heard about this, or he'd never live it down. "Look, if you don't want to, just say –"

"I never said I didn't want to," Raleigh interrupted. "I was just wondering why you asked."

"Why does anyone normally ask someone to dance? You're supposed to be a clever bloke. Figure it out." Which wasn't exactly an answer, but it was all Raleigh was going to get. 

"Yeah, you're, uh...huh." Raleigh still looked like someone had walloped him one. But he was also still standing there, so maybe all hope wasn't lost.

Chuck offered his hand, and waited. "C'mon. I'll even let you lead."

"I..." Raleigh's jaw snapped shut. "No, it's fine. You can lead."

"Suit yourself." He was making a stupendously terrible mistake. And if this was Mako's harebrained way of trying to get Chuck to come to some sort of peace with what had happened with Yancy, then it was an even _worse_ idea, and he was a first rate dipstick for falling for it. He _knew_ Raleigh wasn't Yancy. Which was the entire problem wrapped in a shiny red bow.

Raleigh's palm was callused when it slid over his, the skin rough from years of manual labor, and it definitely felt different than the much softer hands of a woman. It was also strange being at eye level with his dance partner, more personal in a way he didn't quite want to define. Raleigh didn't say anything as Chuck placed his other hand on Raleigh's hip, but he didn't run off, so Chuck offered a small smile. Reassurance for the both of them, maybe. "Suppose you can put your other hand on my shoulder if you want. Might be easier."

"Yeah, um...okay." 

They shuffled awkwardly at first, and it was sort of ridiculous how careful they were acting around each other. Chuck wondered why Raleigh'd even said yes if he wasn't going to relax long enough for a few simple turns. Especially since Raleigh wasn't even looking at him – his head was bent down at their feet. This was going to be the world's longest dance.

"You know you could have just said no."

"Hmm?" Raleigh jerked his head up and he stumbled, bumping into Chuck, then jumping back as if scalded. "Fuck, um..."

Something wasn't adding up. Yeah, Chuck didn't know Raleigh all that well or anything, but he'd never seen the other man so uncoordinated. Normally, Raleigh had the grace of a cat. "Have you ever actually danced with anyone before?"

"Of course I have," Raleigh snapped, but his eyes flicked down again for just a second, and the picture was coming in a little clearer.

"How long ago?"

"Uh...ten years, give or take?"

"Well, that explains a lot," Chuck muttered, then lightly squeezed Raleigh's hand. He was probably the worst person in the room for this job, but he was who Raleigh had. And, as no one else seemed to be volunteering, they'd have to make the most of it. "Alright, look at me, _don't_ pay attention to your feet, just...move with me, yeah? Pretend we're boxing and working on footwork."

Raleigh sighed, but nodded and squared his shoulders back. "Alright, let's do this."

"It's dancing, mate, not a drill," Chuck grinned. Fuck it, he may as well try to find the humor in the situation. This was completely absurd, but somehow, this was his life now. Giving dancing lessons to the savior of the world at a party being thrown in their honor with what felt like half of Hong Kong in attendance. "Glide with me, feel the music, one two, three, one two..."

He kept it to a simple box step, guided Raleigh through the turns with a gentle flex of his fingers on Raleigh's hip, and Raleigh followed each subtle direction with ease. "See, easy," he said, when they made it around the floor once without incident.

"If I step on your fucking feet again because you're distracting me..."

"They're my feet, alright, let me worry about them." 

Why had he never noticed how blue Raleigh's eyes were? A different, darker shade than Yancy's, even though the shape of them was the same. And so was the way they were both able to twist Chuck up in knots without even trying. What was it about the Becket blokes, anyway?

"You're doing fine," he encouraged, mostly to get out of his own head for a minute.

"I feel like I'm sweating balls out here, man," Raleigh replied, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Which was also more than a little distracting. "Is everyone watching us?"

"Probably," Chuck shrugged. He was used to his every move being scrutinized when he was out in public. "I mean, we are the guests of honor and do sort of tower over everyone...although, they could all just be staring at my dad and your partner instead."

Those pretty blue eyes widened as Raleigh's head swiveled left, then right. "Wait, Mako and Herc are...?"

"I promise, if you finish that, we'll be having a much less pleasant dance."

"Right, uh..." Raleigh's lips thinned as he shut his mouth. "Sorry."

"I'm trying not to think about it too much," Chuck said. Shuddered. "That way lies madness and all that. I practically grew up with her." He didn't mention she'd been his first girlfriend. That was something Raleigh should already know, anyway.

"Yeah, definitely not thinking about that anymore," Raleigh stated, and resolutely didn't move his head for the rest of the dance. And being the singular focus of that gaze and all of that attention was... Well, Chuck didn't want to think about it too much. Nor about how well Raleigh's body fit against his, and how similar it was – and how different – than the way he and Yancy had fit together. He already knew what was behind that particular door, and he had no desire to step through it again.

But when the song ended, Chuck didn't move, and neither did Raleigh. They just stayed locked together in a loose embrace, staring at each other. And later, Chuck would never be able to say just what prompted the next words out of his mouth. 

"You, uh...can I buy you a drink?"

Raleigh's lips curved upwards. "I think they're all free."

"Should make this a cheap date, then."

The smile widened even more, became almost toothsome. "Yeah, sure, I'd like that. Although I feel like it should be me buying you a drink. I mean, for the dance lesson and all."

"Maybe I've got a different payment in mind for that," and well, alright, then, he was somehow _flirting_ with Raleigh Becket. He had officially jetted completely around the bend.

Raleigh's fingers brushed against his as they started back to the bar. "I might be down with that. Depending on what sort of payment you wanted." 

And that was...definitely Raleigh flirting back with him. Right? "Maybe I'm still working it out in my head."

"Maybe a drink or two will help you decide." Raleigh leaned against the bartop and ordered two ryes on the rocks. They were silent until the bartender came back around, then Raleigh clinked his glass to Chuck's. "Here's to teamwork."

"Here's to saving the fucking world."

"You know, this is only the beginning, right." Raleigh's arm sweep encompassed the entire room. "The PPDC is gonna send us on some sort of international USO tour like we're Rockettes or something."

Chuck had no idea who Raleigh was talking about, but he got the gist all the same. "You've just been out of the game awhile is all. You'll get used to it again."

"Yeah, that's what scares me," Raleigh muttered, a haunted look creeping back into his eyes. Which wouldn't do. They'd made some real progress in the last fifteen minutes, and Chuck wasn't the sort to tolerate backsliding. 

"I wouldn't worry too much," he said, hoping Raleigh could hear the confidence in his voice. "Dad'll keep a pretty tight lid on where and when we go. He'll look out for us."

"Yeah, he's a good man, your dad." Raleigh swallowed another mouthful of rye. "You two seem to be...uh...hey, you know what, it's none of my business."

"No, it isn't, but we're right. As right as we'll ever be." The rye burned a path down his throat, but that was nothing compared to the way Raleigh was looking at him. "So...you mind telling me why you said yes?"

Raleigh didn't even pretend to misunderstand the question. "Sure, if you tell me why you asked."

"Yeah, alright, that's fair." He probably owed Raleigh that much, at least. "It was Mako's suggestion. She thought, uh, we should get to know each other, that maybe we'd get on if we weren't at each other's throats."

"Did she?" Raleigh's eyes took on a speculative gleam. "And now that we have, what do you think?"

Uh, no, no way he was going to open himself up further without Raleigh right there with him. "That's not how this works. You need to answer my question next before you get to ask another one."

"Ah, I see, we have to play by your rules, is that it?"

"Yeah, if we're calling it that." 

"Okay, fine." Raleigh finished his drink, tongue flicking out to catch the last few droplets, and Chuck almost missed Raleigh's next words. "I said yes because I figured it might be the only chance I'd have to get close to you."

Chuck could feel the heavy thumping of his heart behind a too-tight chest. "Get...close?" He'd misunderstood. That was it.

"Yeah, close." As if to demonstrate, Raleigh stepped in, rubbed his cheek against Chuck's, his warm breath prickling Chuck's ear. "You've been a fucking pain in my ass since day one, but my dick doesn't seem to give a shit."

 _Definitely_ did not misunderstand. But the walls were closing in and he couldn't breathe. He set his glass down before he dropped it. "I need some air."

"Good idea," Raleigh replied, like he hadn't just spun Chuck around in circles like a top, and walked to one of the doors that led to the balcony.

Chuck waited one stilted breath before following. The cool breeze assailed him first, then he caught the salty-sharp scent of the sea before he heard the soothing sound of the waves. It helped. Right now, every little bit helped. 

Raleigh was standing at the railing, the wind curling the ends of his hair around his forehead. The full moon reflecting above the water turned the burnished strands into pale gold, made Raleigh's skin seem practically translucent. He didn't look nearly as composed now and, oddly enough, it only made him more attractive. And the burst of want spiking through him had nothing to do with his memories of another man on another night in what felt like another life.

"I told myself it would serve me right if you left me out here," Raleigh said, when Chuck stepped beside him.

"Yeah, I don't think that was exactly an option, mate." This was probably – definitely – another terrible idea, but Chuck couldn't be arsed to give a solid fuck. "I mean, I can't exactly say I've been wandering about feeling the same way about you, but now that you've put the idea in my head –"

"Hey, you're here now. I can work with that," Raleigh said, and slid a hand along Chuck's jaw, the touch light, but assured. "Is this alright?"

Chuck was having trouble breathing again, but all he did was nod. Then Raleigh's lips touched his, the caress as light as air, like he was seeking permission all over again before he went further. Chuck took the next step, swiped the tip of his tongue across Raleigh's bottom lip, and pulled at Raleigh's hips, urging him closer. Raleigh deepened the kiss, his lips incredibly soft and full, and he felt _nothing_ like his brother, which was...a damn good thing.

Chuck had no idea how long they stayed like that, trading long, slow kisses in the moonlight, but when Raleigh pulled back, looking so pleased with himself, his lips reddened from Chuck's lips, the words just sort of spilled out of Chuck's traitorous mouth.

"You should know I slept with your brother. Well, we didn't really... He gave me my first –" Seriously, what the actual _fuck_ was wrong with him tonight? "Fuck, that was... _Shit_."

He stopped, wishing the ground would swallow him. If his fucking mouth ruined what was promising to be the first good night he'd had in he didn't even know how long, he was going to be really pissed off.

Raleigh blinked. His eyes widened. "Holy shit, that was _you_?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Yance was pretty much a total ladies' only man," Raleigh explained, looking at Chuck like he'd never really seen him before. The scrutiny was disconcerting as hell. "But, once, when we were in the Drift, I caught a glimpse – y'know, just a quick one – of him locking lips with a hot ginger – definitely a dude – and I asked him about it later, because I thought maybe I was tapping into some crazy fantasy of his, y'know, everyone's got shit they think about when they're getting off that they'd never really do in real life...and he told me he'd met this guy at this party after we'd taken down Clawhook in San Diego, and he would have taken this dude home, but it turned out he was only 16 and Yance said he'd have felt like a total pervert if they'd taken it further."

"Yeah, he told me the same thing," Chuck replied, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't anywhere near as bitter about it as he used to be. Missed his chance, and that was that. No use kicking up about it. "Not that it stopped us from...you know what, I'm just gonna shut my fucking gob now before I make this worse." He normally had a much better handle on himself than this.

"It's cool," Raleigh chuckled, thankfully looking amused instead of annoyed. "I mean, you don't have to feel ashamed or anything –"

"I'm not _ashamed_ , Raleigh, I'm bloody annoyed with myself for running my mouth. I may be a pain in the arse, as you said earlier, but I've got manners most of the time, and I don't think blurting out that I sort of slept with your brother is all that fucking polite."

"So you and Yance fooled around, but he wouldn't take you home? That's why you hated me so much when we first met?" The space between Raleigh's brows furrowed. "What, you were blaming me because I'm still here or something?" 

What must the inside of Raleigh's head be like for _that_ to be what he'd gotten out of Chuck's confession? Chuck wasn't sure if he was amazed or irritated. Although, yeah, you know what, irritation was _definitely_ winning.

"Uh, no, _dickhead_ , I hated you when we first met because you were a washed up ex-pilot waltzing back into the program at the last fucking second like you were some sort of superhero swooping in to save us all, even though we'd been the ones holding the fucking fort for the last five years." 

He was just going to ignore the fact that Raleigh _had_ , in fact, saved the day. That was completely beside the fucking point.

"Oh." Then Raleigh peered at him from under those ridiculously long lashes. "So, you kissed me...?"

"Because I wanted to, although right now, I'm wondering why," Chuck replied honestly, impatience bleeding into his voice. Was he going to have to spell out everything? "I wasn't thinking about your brother."

"Good. Because I don't, uh...I'm not really interested in competing with a ghost."

"Good, because I'm not looking to fuck one," Chuck snapped, then groaned. "Christ, I didn't mean – well, I _did_ sort of mean – look, you know what, I'm just –" 

He started to step back inside the ballroom, his cheeks burning with – he couldn't tell if it was shame or embarrassment or mortification or all three (which was definitely not a new feeling where the Beckets were concerned, and fuck _both_ of them for that) – but was stopped by Raleigh's hand on his arm.

"Hey, don't. You're kinda...I like this look on you," Raleigh said, his good humor apparently restored if the smile was anything to go on. "Chuck Hansen, the best, cockiest Jaeger pilot in the world, all flustered and blushing because of a guy."

"Screw you, I'd be fine if you hadn't kissed me like that."

"Yeah?" Raleigh's face brightened even more. "Want me to do it again?"

"More than anything," Chuck fervently replied, and then Raleigh's mouth was back on his, the kiss warm and thorough and hot enough to singe Chuck's eyebrows. Chuck was going to give him about a month to stop.

He stepped into the offered embrace, clutched at Raleigh's shoulders this time as Raleigh's hands framed his hips. Chuck met him halfway, slid his tongue alongside Raleigh's and lost himself in the taste. This wasn't anything like the hesitant exploration from earlier – this was a kiss full of confidence, full of _intent_. Chuck's entire body flushed with arousal as he let out a small, encouraging noise, drank in Raleigh's answering moan, and rubbed himself against every part of Raleigh he could. Hunger raced through him, and he pulled Raleigh even closer, emboldened when Raleigh curled his tongue around Chuck's and took the kiss deeper. Yeah, he could get used to this in a big goddamn hurry.

"Is this alright?" Raleigh asked in the miniscule space between them, his hand a hot, heavy brand searing Chuck's skin even through the layers of fabric separating them.

"Yeah, it's good, you're..." His breath stutter-stopped, then sped back up when Raleigh traced his erection with whisper-light fingers. "God, Raleigh..."

He backed up, sank to one of the lounge chairs and pulled Raleigh with him until Raleigh was straddling his lap, and God, he hoped it was strong enough to hold their weight, because there was no way he was going anywhere. Not now, with Raleigh pressed against him, hips rocking tight and hot, their foreheads pressed together as they moved, each panting breath and gasp filling the small space between them. When the hell had this happened, this desire raging through him, this _need_ to see Raleigh Becket coming undone at his touch and chanting his name? 

Raleigh slid his hands under Chuck's jacket and along his back. "You're really good at this," he commented, and something about the breathless nature to his voice wrecked what little bit of control Chuck had left. No, Raleigh wasn't Yancy and this wasn't San Diego, but the hot flood of yearning was about as familiar and welcome as it got.

"Yeah, you too, just...like that, keep..." He choked off a moan, swayed and grabbed onto Raleigh's hips like they were an anchor.

"Too many clothes, fuck, why're you wearing so many clothes..."

"Fucked if I know, just..." He wanted to slow down, he really did, but whatever Raleigh was doing felt far too good for him to pull back. It wasn't enough friction for him to come or anything, and he wasn't so far gone that he was in danger of nutting in his slacks like some pimpled teen, but every slow roll of Raleigh's hips sent new sparks racing along his nerves until he felt like a big electrical conduit.

Then Raleigh's lips were tracing the shell of his ear, teeth nipping at the skin, and they were _definitely_ going to have to find a more private setting than the veranda of a fucking ballroom in a... 

"Hotel," he gasped, blinking to clear his brain.

"Huh?"

Raleigh looked adorably confused. Chuck was already leaning in to get at his lips again when he remembered what he'd been trying to stay. "We're at a hotel."

"Yeah, and?" Raleigh asked, and Chuck waited for it, waited for it, then... "Wait, we're at a _hotel_."

Clever boy. "Yeah, and I bet they have beds. Big ones. Ones large enough to do some serious damage to each other, if you wanted."

" _If_ I... You have _got_ to be kidding." Raleigh scrambled to his feet, all ungainly limbs and desperation, and Chuck wanted to be inside him more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life except piloting a Jaeger. Which was definitely a revelation he was going to have to examine later. Much later, like after he'd fucked Raleigh into next week a few times. "C'mon."

"Wait, hold on, we can't just...come here, alright." One of them was going to have to be the adult here, and God help them both, it looked like it'd have to be Chuck. He got to his feet and smoothed out the wrinkled edges of Raleigh's jacket and shirt as best he could. "I don't mind if it's obvious that we want a room so we can fuck each other senseless, but there isn't a need to advertise that your arse and my cock are going to become a lot better acquainted."

Raleigh grinned, and pressed a quick kiss to Chuck's lips. "I think I kinda like this possessive side to you. As long as you mean it."

"Oh, I fucking mean it," Chuck assured him, and threaded their fingers together as they stepped back inside the ballroom. He probably needed to find his dad, just so he wouldn't worry later when Chuck wasn't on the chopper heading back to the Shatterdome. Well, and Herc would have to take Max out for his walk, since Chuck planned to be far too busy peeling Raleigh out of his suit to have time to do it himself. He figured Max would understand.

"Anyone you want to say goodnight to?"

"Chuck, I didn't even get to _speak_ to anyone other than you tonight."

"Right." He tried – maybe not very hard – to feel bad about hijacking Raleigh for the night, but couldn't bring himself to care. Not with the way the evening was promising to turn out. "Well, I do need to let my dad know I'm not going home."

"He's over at the front bar with Tendo."

Chuck made his way through the crowd, and kept Raleigh's hand in his. He didn't intend to let go either, not until they were behind a locked door with no interruptions and nothing but time on their hands. This time, he was taking what was on offer and he wasn't giving Raleigh a _choice_ about accepting. He wasn't waking up tomorrow morning with only the sour taste of regret on his tongue.

Herc lifted a brow when he saw them, and made a point of looking down at their joined hands. "Should I assume that the two of you are getting on now?"

"Yeah, you might could say that," Chuck said, ignoring the speculative look Tendo was giving the both of them. "Listen, y'think you could walk Max when you get back, maybe let him bunk with you tonight?"

"Yeah, I suppose I could." Chuck could tell it was taking considerable effort on Herc's part not to laugh, and he was grateful for the restraint. "I also take it you won't be making the trip back to the Shatterdome with the rest of the group?"

"We were thinking of taking a couple of days of R&R, sir," Raleigh piped in, with a completely straight face. Chuck had no idea how he pulled it off. 

Herc's lips twitched. "I see. Well, permission granted. And, uh, son?" he said, stopping Chuck in mid-turn. "There's an all-night chemist shop on the main level by the front desk. I suggest you two stop by there first."

Chuck couldn't tell who was more mortified that Herc was giving him directions to buy supplies – Tendo or Raleigh – but he just nodded. "Yeah, ta," he said, and tugged an unresisting Raleigh towards the stairs. He didn't see Mako on the way out, but he figured she'd put the pieces together soon enough, and would probably spend the rest of the evening patting herself on the back for a job well done. He couldn't say she hadn't earned it.

Raleigh lagged behind for a step, then quickly caught up as Chuck marched them towards the bank of elevators just outside the ballroom. "Did your _dad_ just –?"

"You really wanna talk about my old man right now?" 

"Uh, no, not really."

"Good. Because I can think of approximately a thousand things I'd rather you focus on and almost every single one of them involves us in some state of naked." They stepped into the elevator and Chuck was slammed against the mirrored wall before the doors even slid shut.

"Hold that thought," Raleigh told him, then captured his mouth, the kiss long and deep and so thorough that Chuck was dazed and seeing stars by the time they reached the lobby. 

Chuck was pretty sure Raleigh had sucked all of the oxygen out of his brain, but that was fine, he could live without it for awhile. He was content to let Raleigh take charge as they ducked into the shop (open, just as Herc had promised) to buy what had to be the biggest box of frangers and the biggest bottle of slick on the planet, and fine, maybe they _were_ advertising that they were getting ready to engage in some serious, earth-shattering fucking, but screw being circumspect. The world _should_ be envious of the two of them and all of the sex they were going to have.

"Hey, y'think we can make the PPDC pay for this?" 

Chuck hadn't actually thought about who was going to pay, but since Raleigh mentioned it, it sounded like a good idea. "I say we don't give the bastards a choice. What's the point of being a bloody hero if we can't enjoy a few perks?"

"In that case, I want a suite. With a big balcony and a Jacuzzi and a tub big enough for both of us to fit in. And maybe a piano."

"A what?" Raleigh was thinking about _music_ at a time like this?

Raleigh turned his head slightly to whisper in Chuck's ear. "Sue me, man, I've always had a fantasy about eating a guy's ass out while he's splayed on top of a baby grand."

Chuck was _not_ going to tackle Raleigh and wrestle him to the floor in the hotel lobby. He wasn't. But if he quickened his steps to get to the check-in desk, he didn't figure anyone would blame him.

As it turned out, there wasn't any need to even worry about billing the PPDC. The hotel manager, maybe on orders from the party organizers to show the guests of honor every courtesy, maybe on his own, Chuck didn't really care, had taken one look at them, and told them that they could have any room they wanted for as long as they wanted, courtesy of the hotel. "See, perks," Chuck murmured in Raleigh's ear.

"In that case, best suite you've got," Raleigh told the manager, somehow keeping his voice steady, even though Chuck could feel the way his body was quivering. Which, naturally, led him to wonder just how much it would take to wreck all of that finely tuned control.

He couldn't wait to find out.

***

The top floor Presidential Suite was luxury on an entirely different level than anything Chuck had ever seen. He and Raleigh stepped one foot onto the sumptuous carpet and Raleigh let out a low whistle. "Now _this_ is living."

"I think my entire room would fit into one corner of the kitchen."

"Dude, I think the entire LOCCENT would fit into the living room with room to spare," Raleigh commented, brushing a hand across the small of Chuck's back as he headed down the short flight of steps that led to the elegantly furnished sitting area. He dropped the bag with the supplies in it on the coffee table. "How many rooms did the manager dude say there were?"

"Uh, living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two baths, a balcony." Sadly, no piano, but Chuck figured they'd make do with another flat surface. He had his eye on the breakfast bar – it looked to be about the right height.

Raleigh turned to face him, his smile wicked and mischievous. "You got any objection to staying here until we've christened all the rooms?"

Chuck took the stairs down, already loosening his tie. "As long as we go through them twice." The way he was feeling, he might even need three times or maybe more, and wasn't that a kick. Him, hot and heavy for another Becket brother, only this one wasn't pushing him away with a bullshit excuse.

"Twice it is," Raleigh declared, and crooked a finger. "I know we're playing by your rules, but I'm gonna add one to your list."

Chuck stopped in front of him. He wanted to spend an hour or so mapping all of Raleigh's laugh lines, then maybe another exploring that mouth. "I'm listening."

Raleigh batted Chuck's hands away from the tie. "If you're my gift, then I get to unwrap you. You don't get to unwrap yourself."

"Gift, huh? Is it your birthday or something?" Chuck grinned.

"Nope." Raleigh pressed a quick, hard kiss to Chuck's lips, then started deftly unbuttoning Chuck's waistcoat. "But if we really do get all of these perks from being heroes or whatever, then I'm taking you as my payment."

"I see." Chuck took another small step closer, loosened Raleigh's tie from his neck. He liked this side of Raleigh – all smiling and teasing and happy with the world and his place in it. It was refreshing, and he couldn't help but respond in kind. "And if I wanted to take _you_ as payment?"

"We can switch," Raleigh told him, and spread Chuck's shirt out, letting out a pleased sigh. "Yeah, you were definitely worth it."

Chuck shoved Raleigh's jacket off, and it joined Raleigh's tie on the carpet. "Worth what?"

"Saving the world," Raleigh said, trapping Chuck's hands between them as he nibbled a path along Chuck's jaw. "I know this is gonna sound cheesy as shit, but –" When he pulled back, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes "– I wanna do every stupid, clichéd thing we can think of. Champagne and caviar and fucking bubble baths and breakfast in bed and making out until our lips are numb and feasting on each other until we're too sore to move. I just...we've _earned_ this, y'know?"

Chuck swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. He didn't think he could look away if his life depended on it. Old ghosts – _ghost_ , singular – and regrets were dissipating like mist, losing whatever power they might have once had. "You want...with _me_?"

Raleigh's smile was soft, unraveled the knot in Chuck's chest. "Yeah, with _you_. I know who I'm with and I know who I want. Chuck Hansen, arrogant asshole and one of the bravest men I've ever met."

How on earth was he supposed to respond to a declaration like that? To the way Raleigh was staring at him, like Chuck _meant_ something more to him than just a celebratory fuck. How was he supposed to respond to what he thought Raleigh was really trying to say? Chuck had the distinct feeling that a lot more than just the next few days of the aforementioned sex rested on how he answered, and fuck, he didn't want to piss away this chance to finally get it right. This was nothing like five years ago – it was promising to be even better.

"Whatever you want, Raleigh Becket," he said, rounding out the vowels of Raleigh's name and maybe taking the opportunity to remind them both that he _also_ knew who he was with and who he wanted. He smoothed one hand over Raleigh's heart, and placed a soft kiss to unresisting lips. "Washed up has-been and the most heroic, ballsiest bastard I've ever known."

It must've been the right answer, because Raleigh grinned at him, boyish and somehow still sexy as fuck. "Ballsy, huh?"

"The ballsiest," Chuck confirmed, and resumed unbuttoning Raleigh's shirt. When he looked down, he saw angry red scars etched along Raleigh's skin. A vivid reminder than Chuck wasn't the only one who'd been haunted by Yancy's ghost. Chuck wasn't the only person making the choice to move on. 

_Give yourself permission to be happy_. Well, he was. Starting right now.

"I kinda like you talking about my balls," Raleigh remarked, with a light-hearted smirk that still managed to be suggestive enough to send all of Chuck's blood racing due south.

"Yeah, well, I'd kinda like to get my mouth on them at some point, since I'm fairly certain you promised me a lot of sex and I'd like to collect." Chuck moved to Raleigh's belt. "So if you don't mind, we need to be doing a lot more getting naked and a lot less talking."

Now that he'd accepted what was happening, he was eager to get started on the rest of the festivities.

"I am going to give you sex for _days_ ," Raleigh stated, but finally started to get with the program on the much less clothing front. 

They eventually made their way to one of the bedrooms and onto the massive, king-sized bed. The only light came from the moon shining through the open curtains of the sliding glass doors, but neither suggested turning on the overhead. Chuck was able to see Raleigh just fine. And what he saw was, well, it was beautiful. _Raleigh_ was beautiful, from his long, lean body to the way he responded so eagerly to Chuck's every touch. The tenor of the evening may have changed – or maybe it was simply that what Chuck himself wanted had changed – but he'd always been good on his feet, at rolling with the situation, and this was no different. And Raleigh didn't seem to mind that this was no longer about scratching an itch or letting off some steam.

Chuck allowed himself to indulge in exploration, let his hands linger, let his mouth roam. Again and again, he returned to Raleigh's lips, luxuriating in the way Raleigh tasted, in the feel of Raleigh's tongue sliding against his own. He mapped Raleigh's body with eager fingers and reverent touches, burned a path along sensitive skin, using only Raleigh's soft moans as a guide. Raleigh was right, in more ways than one. They'd _earned_ this, earned a night with no baggage, no regrets, no expectations other than giving each other pleasure. They'd earned the right to drink each other in and discover what made the other shift or sigh or beg. They had time now – they had all of the time in the world – and they'd earned that, too, earned tomorrow and the next day and however many days after they chose to spend together. Which was a pretty awesome thought, actually.

Even more awesome was the fact that Chuck truly wanted this. Wanted that tomorrow, wanted Raleigh and whatever came next with a quiet, _adult_ conviction. He had a future now, something to look forward to, and the past was finally where it belonged.

"So, I've been thinking," Chuck said, as he slid back up to get at Raleigh's mouth again. His fingers closed over Raleigh's cock, started a lazy, slow rhythm.

Raleigh frowned slightly even as he arched into the contact. "I must be doing something wrong."

"Ah, no..." Chuck shivered when Raleigh wrapped his hand around Chuck's cock, matched Chuck's movement. "You're...this is...very right."

"Good." Raleigh leaned in, the kiss voluptuous and toe-curlingly amazing. Definitely right. The rightest, in fact. "So...?"

"Um..." What was he thinking? Other than Raleigh had magic hands and Chuck wanted those hands on him all the time. "Oh, uh...we should go out."

Raleigh pulled away slightly. His fingers stilled. And those gorgeous blue eyes of his clouded in confusion once again. " _Now_?"

"No, not..." Chuck groaned, frustrated and wondering why this couldn't _wait_ until maybe he'd made Raleigh come a few times and he'd come a few times himself. But it was too late, he'd put it out there, and he may as well get it settled before they continued. "Later. We should...do something."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Raleigh beamed at him, looking so pleased that Chuck couldn't even be mad that he'd stopped stroking Chuck's cock _again_.

"Yes," Chuck said, and repeated the word against Raleigh's lips, cementing it with another kiss. Because, _yes_. Yes to a future and yes to Raleigh and yes to whatever surprises might be in store. 

"You are something else..." Raleigh shook his head, but he was still smiling, and he'd moved closer. And closer was just fine with Chuck. "Yes, by the way. Whenever you want. Even though your timing is _terrible_."

"I have great timing," Chuck argued, and rolled Raleigh to his back, determined to prove it.

***


End file.
